


The Pivot Point

by scatteredmoonlight



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteredmoonlight/pseuds/scatteredmoonlight
Summary: The first time Esca met Marcus had been in the arena, but in his opinion, it didn’t count. What counted was the doctor exploring Marcus with his knives and Esca holding him down. And right now, among these savages, Esca believed he once again held Marcus down for his own good.
Relationships: Marcus Flavius Aquila/Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	The Pivot Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weshes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weshes/gifts).



The tent flap burst open and a painted warrior grunted words that Marcus couldn’t understand. Not only for the language barrier, but the rain pelted in an inhospitable fashion. Gusts of bitter winds bloomed into the tent and assaulted the slaves’ meager fire, an old woman fighting to keep the water from dashing it to smoke. The tent could barely keep as a strong enough barrier, and now as the painted warrior stood glowering at Marcus, the grey dust melting off his cheeks where the hood couldn’t protect him, Marcus couldn’t hear because of the mighty rain. 

It was obvious the warrior wanted something from Marcus, so he rose to a stand and wasn’t at all surprised when he was manhandled out of the tent and brought into the rain.

The rain gnawed at him through his drenched clothes, hair clinging to his forehead and dripping into his eyes. Marcus was soon released and made to walk beside the warrior as they ventured away from the slaves’ tent and toward the main congregation. They slipped past tent and tent before arriving to a grand one.

Upon entering the smoke filled, vile den, Marcus’s eyes landed upon Esca, sitting only a few places away from the chieftan.

*

The first time Esca met Marcus had been in the arena, but in his opinion, it didn’t count. What counted was the doctor exploring Marcus with his knives and Esca holding him down. And right now, among these savages, Esca believed he once again held Marcus down for his own good.

“You slave is more tame now,” said the warrior beside him. Esca held his goblet out for Marcus to fill, and smiled plainly. “What did you do to him?”

_ Ignored him, mostly. _ But Esca said nothing, merely smiled over the brim of his goblet as he drank.

But he wanted to speak with him. The cold couldn’t be helping his leg, and he doubted the walk over had been pleasant in the rain. Marcus was soaked to the bone, the wine at first splashing on Esca’s wrist as Marcus fought past tremors from keeping his shivers at bay.  _ A wise chieftan is a kind chieftan _ , his mother had once told him. His drive to protect the weak was difficult to shut off, no matter the circumstance. He didn’t know when this feeling in him began — in truth, part of him still hated Marcus. Hated his Roman arrogance. Hated his power. Hated his strength of character. Yet he’d grown fond of all these aspects, too, somehow. He’d been blinded by a taste of freedom in their journey beyond the Wall that he never noticed when Marcus had begun to chip away at it ever so slightly in his unique way. And Esca hated him for that as much as he loved him.

But now, most of all, he hated sensing the cold of Marcus behind him and all it represented.


End file.
